You decide to go back to sleep. It’s warm and comfy in your bed and the others will understand that you just need some happy sleep. Unfortunately, while the others may understand, the lack of a main gunner leaves the ship in quite a pickle. The enemy rips it apart and you’re awakened from your sleep by cold hard vacuum. As your blood boils, you die.
You blink and look around you. You’re in a big hall, so big that you can hardly see the roof. There are fellow Pkunk everywhere. In front of you three old Pkunk perch on a bench, looking at you with friendly, yet serious, smiles.
“Welcome to the tribunal, new soul.” the middle one says. “You must be confused. Let us explain what is going on here”.
Then abruptly he burps, shakes his feathers and disappears. Another, even older Pkunk appears in his stead.
“What now, what now? Who’s this young rascal then?” The other Pkunk quickly bend in and whisper something in his ears. He peers at you and hoots in delight.
“That must have been confusing eh! Old Brakky got reincarnated, and I was just killed in combat! This is the Pkunk tribunal. When a new soul enters the Pkunk realm we try to determine how Pkunk it really is. And we’re quite good at it! All we need is to look at four choices, and we can tell if you’re a Pkunk or not. If you aren’t, we’ll send you on to wherever you belong, since we’re wise and old and practically never make mistakes.”
The other birds lean in again, whispering some further instructions.
“Whoop de doo! So you were asleep eh? That’s your first choice! And now you’re dead! Tell me, are you pleased with that decision?”
You ponder the question. Sleeping was nice, but boiling blood wasn’t that hot.
1. Yes, combats not really my thing but I do love sleeping!
2. No, I should have gotten out of bed.
